


All The World Is A Stage

by thefobcomesfromwithin



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Langst, Loneliness, Needless attempts at being poetic, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 09:05:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14766638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefobcomesfromwithin/pseuds/thefobcomesfromwithin
Summary: Sleep had never been something that interested Lance.





	All The World Is A Stage

  Lance's footsteps echoed through the empty air of the castle. He had long forgotten any fear _(or hope)_ that he may wake someone up. Everyone was asleep at this hour, whether it was a restful sleep or not. Sleep had never been something that interested Lance, even back home. Back then it had been the knowledge that there was so much more to do when one was awake, projects to start or finish, books to read, philosophies to explore. Now it was the knowledge that the aching pit of loneliness would follow him into the void, infiltrating even his subconscious mind. So he spent the witching hours wandering the castle, pretending it was better than staring at an empty wall until his body succumbed to its instincts. His eyes focused on nothing and as his feet carried him he let his thoughts drift. He had long become numb to the crushing homesickness that used to follow his every move. Hell, he had begun to doubt if he had ever had a home. He felt as if nothing was real, as if every word he uttered and every emotion he felt was just a script etched into his soul, meant to be performed on the grande stage of the universe.  His jokes came without thought, his laughs and smiles and kind if not flirty words spilled out as if on autopilot.  The only thing that felt real anymore was the all consuming knowledge that he was alone. Logically he knew he wasn't, in the definition of the word. He knew that every single member of his team would gladly listen to his darkest thought and insecurities. Would take a bullet for him, as he would for them.  And yet he knew it would never fix anything. He almost laughed out loud at that thought. What was there to fix? Scratch that, what good would it do to fix anything? The outcome would always be the same. He'd die protecting the universe. He'd die performing the same goddamn script. He'd die knowing that his role would be filled by another, and eventually the same would happen to everyone he knew. To everyone he loved. The show must go on after all.

  Suddenly his feet stopped moving and he faced the expanse of the universe from the control deck. His stared, his mind blank. He couldn't shake the urge to keep walking. To walk to the end of the galaxy and then keep on still. And when he reached the end of the universe he'd keep going into whatever void followed.  Utterly forgettable.  He imagined all the walls he'd built crumbling around his feet as he walked,  shedding every layer until only the scared kid who had been forced to grow up too fast remained.  Because behind the scripts and the choreography and the whole goddamn joke of the play of life that's all they were.  Kids.  Completely and utterly alone. 


End file.
